


He Remembered

by KnineKit



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Emotional neglect, Gaster is an asshole, Manipulation, Oneshot, Overall not very happy, Papyrus just wants to help - Freeform, Praise, Sans Needs A Hug, Sans is trying to hide his feelings but sucks ass at it, Sanster, Trauma, Unhealthy admiration, dark content, doubting, experiment au, soul experiments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnineKit/pseuds/KnineKit
Summary: Sans reflects on the time he worked for W.D. Gaster.He remembered why he stopped trying.
Relationships: W. D. Gaster/Sans
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	He Remembered

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!! This is my first post here. I actually made this back in November of 2019, and I plan on turning this into a fic or something. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Thanks to the sanster discord server for hyping me up, y’all are hella dope >:)

Sans remembered when he used to try.

He remembered the pristine, white lab coat he used to wear so proudly, so confidently.

He remembered the smell of chemicals and gas filling his nasal cavity, the way he would look forward to that same scent every morning.

He remembered the same coworkers that showed up everyday, who had soon begun to grow on him. He missed the greetings and the goodbyes they’d say when clocking in and out.

He remembered **him**.

But here Sans is, laying on his bare, stained mattress that he’s had for ages. How long was it? Four years? Five? He couldn’t recall.

The only thing that was on his mind was **him**.

Sans remembered getting this giddy feeling when walking into the lab. The butterflies in his nonexistent stomach that fluttered constantly, his fingers fidgeting in his pockets or behind his back.

The way he would take in a deep breath, and enter through the automatically-opening doors. He’d shuffle in and swiftly tug his lab coat off the hanger on the wall, immediately getting to work and saying his salutations.

That same giddy feeling would get more vivid as he stopped by **his** office.

Gaster was a brilliant man. He was the same man to construct the CORE, the invention to give the underground a sustaining energy source. He always made sure to get whatever needs to be done finished, Sans admired him for that.

That same admiration started to blossom into something stronger over time.

His office was always so clean. Totally spotless. Sans knew how nitpicky the doctor was, he found it kind of funny.

He remembered the way the doctor would glance at him with such genuine happiness, such care. It was almost refreshing; the feeling of someone caring about him. It was almost foreign at this point, Sans had always been the one to care about others.

He felt important. Not just for his position, but for _himself_.

The giddy feeling came back every time he thought of it.

Sans would join Gaster in his office to talk over the schedule for the week or their plans for the day. It was unnecessary, neither of them really forgot what they were going to do over the next few work days. But they did it regardless, because they wanted to.

Because they _wanted_ to.  
.  
.  
.

He remembered coming home to his little brother Papyrus dashing up to him, gripping his arm like a koala and rambling about his day at school. Sans listened carefully, a smile etching onto his face. His brother was so cool.

After making a delightful bowl of spaghetti and reading Papyrus’ typical bedtime story with the fluffy bunny protagonist, he collapsed onto his small bed. It was fitting for his size, he didn’t need anything larger. He slept just fine with it anyways.

He remembered clutching to his pillow with a faint grin plastered on his face, his cyan blush spread on his cheeks. Sans still couldn’t seem to get **him** off his mind. Everything about **him** was mesmerizing.  
.  
.  
.

He remembered the way him and Gaster would get closer and closer with each work day.

He remembered the way Gaster’s gaze would linger, and how his hands would brush his fingers distantly.

He remembered the night where he was clutching his pillow once more, finally realizing his relationship with his boss was no longer professional.  
.  
.  
.

One day, Gaster offered Sans to stay after work. Which, Sans willingly accepted.

Everyone that was previously in the lab had already clocked out and was gone by the time Gaster led Sans to a hidden room in the basement. Their filthy, stained lab coats sloppily put onto the hanger.

He remembered feeling excited.

Now, he just feels regret.

He remembered Gaster giving him that same _damned_ smile as before when they went into his office and mindlessly chatted away.

The same smile he fell deeply in love with.

He remembered Gaster leading him to a freezing cold, metal table. He winced at how badly it was rusted.

**_“You trust me, don’t you Sans?”_ **

He remembered reluctantly nodding and Gaster briskly locking the door behind him with one of his magically summoned hands.

He remembered feeling a sense of rising fear in his empty gut.

God, how he wished he just went home. How he wished he just dipped with his lab coat thrown on the hanger. How he wished he just went home to Papyrus and fed him dinner. How he wished he could’ve just read Papyrus his bedtime story and headed to sleep. How he wished he just went back to clutching his pillow and longingly thinking of the doctor.  
.  
.  
.

He remembered screaming.

He remembered his lab coat, not being on the hanger like it should’ve, but being on the musty concrete floor.

He remembered desperately begging Gaster to not do it, to _please_ just let him go.

But Gaster _insisted_ that he stayed. He was his assistant after all, what use would he be if he didn’t help Gaster with testing?

What use would he be?

He remembered Gaster, who he thought would never hurt him, who had been there for him since day one, roughly injecting a syringe into his soul.

Oh, how _painful_ it was.

Sans would struggle against the restraints, chafing his pale bones. He just wanted to _leave_ , he just wanted **him** to stop.

But what use would he be?

**_WhatusewouldhebewhatusewouldhebewhatusEWOULDHEB_** -  
.  
.  
.

He remembered Gaster telling him he had lovely bones.

Words that would be flattering, words that should’ve made him flustered, made him feel _ill_.

This continued. The pain, the words, they continued. Sans would be experimented on like some sort of guinea pig, played with like some sort of toy.

**_“You know what will happen, don’t you Sans? What will happen to your brother? Your home? You’re a smart monster Sans. You know your choices.”_**  
.  
.  
.

He remembered vomiting that night.

Cyan acid spewed vigorously from his mouth, tears pricking at the corner of his eye sockets.

His poor brother was rubbing his back lovingly, hoping to ease the pain Sans was going through. Sans just continued to grip the rim of the trash can.

He didn’t sleep with his pillow that night.  
.  
.  
.

He remembered his coworkers asking if he was okay, if he had been feeling well lately. He always responded with something along the lines of, _“heh, just a long night. ‘m fine.”_

He remembered how he quickly learned how to mask his suffering. How to hide the building rage and the overpowering sadness. And it was _exhausting_ , but it was the best thing to do for himself.

For Papyrus.  
.  
.  
.

Sans powered through the nights Gaster would test on his now damaged and badly cracked soul, the nights he would just puke the nothing he ate.

**_“You’ve always been my favorite, Sans. Thank you for trusting me.”_ **

Those words just made Sans want to grab his soul and tear it to pieces. To throw it on the same concrete floor his lab coat was uselessly discarded on. To stomp on it as hard as he could.

He remembered going home lacking energy that night, his brother _crying_ for him to just tell him _what was wrong_.

He was a horrible brother.

And Gaster was a horrible person.  
.  
.  
.

He remembered heading to the same small mattress he sleeps on every night, clenching his fists. He ran over to the pillow he used to imagine Gaster being, and ripped it apart. The stuffing flowing out of it like an overflowing cup of water, like the way his magic would burst out of his nearly broken soul, everytime Gaster decided to force some unwelcome concoction in it.

He remembered hot tears streaming down his cheeks, his throat growing even more hoarse as he screamed insults, screamed about how much he _hated_ Gaster.

But he knew that was a lie.

He knew he still had that admiration.

The same love he felt for him from the very beginning.

He thanked the stars Papyrus was sleeping over at his new friend Undyne’s house that night.  
.  
.  
.

He remembered laying on the floor pathetically, feeling so drained and deprived of life.

Hate flooded his head, completely washing over any love that had decided to restore itself in his mind.

He remembered planning his revenge.

Gaster was a _horrible_ person.  
.  
.  
.

He remembered following Gaster through the CORE, as he rambled about his plans for their upcoming project.

As though he was completely innocent, as though he didn’t just totally _demolish_ Sans’ soul to satisfy his curiosity after work every night.

He remembered stopping to a halt, causing Gaster to turn around and ask him what the hold up was.

He remembered quickly pulling Gaster by his lab coat and roughly shoving him into the endless lava of the CORE.

He remembered feeling nothing but hate and satisfaction watching Gaster fall into the pit below him.

Gaster stared back up at him in pure shock, completely caught off guard.

Gaster’s look of surprise turned into something softer, as he said one last thing, that echoed to Sans’ soul before he was erased from existence.

_**“I love you, Sans.”** _

He remembered his eyes widening, as any hate he once had vanished, breaking down into a fit of sobs and screams.

He remembered feeling nothing but empty.  
.  
.  
.

Sans was so tired. Just, _tired_.

And, once again,

Sans remembered why he stopped trying.

fin, 11/16/19


End file.
